Down Into The Rabbit Hole
by Unique is Awesome
Summary: Summary: America's Heroism is having a negative impact. The result of Wars, Fear, and Blood is hanging over the world and it's his fault. So why is letting go of the 'Hero' so hard? What is being locked away that the American refuses to let out?
1. Prolouge

_I wonder where my mind went_

_I seemed to have lost it_

_Or maybe it has been bent _

_But I'm just content without it_

Oh, how he despised the fool. The brainless fool. The fool that cause all the problems. The fool that won't let him fix his idiotic faults. The faults that caused all the hatred, rage, confusion, and blood spoilage that is well-known to the people. . . his people. If only he could overtake the fool. To slit that dimwit's throat. Or hold that thick-headed skull under water until the bubbles stop? Or better yet, use my own two hands to strangle him to death! To stop the trash that he calls words or rather 'Heroic Ideas'. To stop the process that the idiot uses to force me to think up half off the mess he calls a language. But the most important, to stop that horrendous screech he calls a laugh.

_Maybe I'm better off?_

_Maybe I never had it?_

_People have told me that I seem to never have it with me_

_Maybe I lost it on the way?_

But alas. . . I am the fool's fool, for I can't even stop this madness. The madness he has come to call 'Heroism'. The fool's fool is done with the 'Hero'. The 'Hero' has only caused death, fear, and destruction. . . The death of his own people, the fear that distracts his people, the destruction that his own people create to keep him safe. Safe? No one has been safe in the last 50 years. Probably more if I were to think. But the fool's fool isn't allowed to think. The fool's fool is only here to carry out the 'Hero's Agenda'. If this is what a 'Hero' can do, then just imagine what a 'Villain' like me could accomplish.

_I wonder where I lost my Mind?_

_Maybe you can't lose something you never had. . ._

_I like to believe that isn't true_

_Perhaps I left it where I left my Heart?_

A 'Villain' like me~ A 'Villain' like me~

I may be a 'Villain' but I guarantee

That once I'm free

You can't get rid of me~

_My Heart?_

_I wonder where I left that_

_Maybe that's why I can't feel_

Just remember, the fool's fool is done with being the 'Hero'.

_My Mind?_

_I wonder where I left that_

_Maybe that's why I can't concentrate_

If I'm free,

the world will see,

how much of a 'FOOL' I can be

But for now, I must retire. The 'Heroic' fool is calling me.

_I can't think with my Heart _

_I can't feel with my Mind_

_If I can't use them_

_I hope they can use each other_

Until next time. . .

And maybe the next time well be too late? Too late for the foolish fool~

_A Mindless head and a Heartless Chest_

_A perfectly incomplete pair_

_For a perfectly incomplete person_

_That person's Me_

Or, more like the world?

_Not having a Mind isn't so bad_

_I don't have to think about the things I did_

_I know what I did was right_

_So why does my empty Head throb . . .?_

The fool's calling my name. So I will say goodbye.

_Not having a Heart isn't so bad_

_I don't have to feel the things I did_

_I know I did was right_

_So why does my empty Chest ache . . .?_

Goodbye world. I never truly knew you but I have to say I never cared to.


	2. A Voice

When I got up this morning, I thought today would be different. Just like all the other days I had to force myself out of bed. Just like all the other days I had to ignore a dull throbbing in the back of head. Just like all the other days I had to put up with their bullshit. Just like today. Nothing chances.

"You bloody git! Do you even know how stupid you sound!" England insults me. I remember when that use to hurt. To have my big brother who I look up to easily shoot my ideas down without a second thought. Who I used to look up to that is. I remember I use to have a counter for it too, just to hide that hurt. But lately, I've been feeling numb. Numb to his and the other's hurtful words. All I can feel is this throbbing. This sickening throbbing.

"England, at least let him finish." France tries to reason uselessly. I can't even pretend to appreciate that. Not when I know he feels the same way.

'The Hero's ideas are idiotic and full of nonsense.', 'More trouble than he's worth, which by now, isn't worth much.' , 'How did he even become a world power any? Russia must have felt something close to sympathy to have let him be this powerful.'

These thoughts are large reminders of why I need to play the 'Hero'. These thoughts of jealousy, bitterness, and hatred are exactly why I need to keep up my mask. Even if I take the world down with me I can't let my defenses down, even if I'm at home. The last time I did let them down and let my mask crumble, I almost killed Japan. I almost killed the closet person I consider a friend. That's exactly why this mask must stay up. Smile like a moron at the insults and at the words that cut so deep I feel like their bleeding. Laugh at their efforts at berating me and die a little inside. But . . . I wonder if there's anything left of me to die? I know for a fact I'm a shell of my former self, but I didn't believe it was literal. It probably is.

"America?" A quiet voice cut through my thoughts like a blade. Canada. My brother. My little innocent, kindhearted brother. You're the reason I chose to be the hero. You're the reason I can look at the world a little longer before I turn away in repulsion. You and people like you make this world slightly more tolerable. Yet another reason I have to keep this façade. To protect what's important to me, even if I'm hurting it at the same time.

"Yes?" I force myself to answer cheerfully just to shatter any doubts he has. The last thing I want to do is have my brother worry about me. Someone who doesn't deserve it.

"You're really quiet today. Are you feeling alright?" Canada asks softly.

No. No I'm not. This throbbing is getting stronger. It hurts.

"Of course I'm alright Mattie! I'm the Hero!" I announce stupidly. He's worried gaze doesn't leave mine for a moment. Just when I thought he seen through my cracked smile, and the nervous twitch of my brow, he returns his attention to the rest of the nations, who were mumbling rather loudly about my unnecessary proclamation.

"Aiyah! America could you please stop that!" China yelled harshly as he slammed his wok on the table.

I feel my smile slip oh so slightly but I quickly recover. "I can't stop being the Hero! It's what I am and what I do!" That's right. A hero's supposed to help, protect, and preserve. . . So when did it go down the drain?

"Calm down comrade China, I'm sure he'll finish his idiotic speech quickly so he can gorge himself with the garbage he calls food." Russia added with false cheeriness. I remember when that got on my nerves, but the throbbing is taking up much more pain than any of them can throw at me right now. For the time being that is. Later, just like always, their words come back in my head as soon as I get peace from the migraine. But for the time being, I ignore the pain and their insults and continue on from my address that I force some part of my head to make up. Just jumbled words and nonsense ideas of a Hero. A rather foolish and brain-dead Hero at that.

But this is the Hero they need.

This is the only Hero I'll allow out.

"—And that concludes my awesome speech!" I finished with a strained smile. I took my seat and waited for the end of this Hell. During the whole time, my head has been pounding. Every little sound carried the force of a fucking hurricane that slammed into my skull over and over again. Even the lights cause me to sway ever so slightly, which easily adds to the churning of my stomach that had intensified while I have been here. It's taking all of me to not dry heave on the table right now. For now though, I just let my head hit the table as gently as I can and close my eyes to stop the over powering light from knocking me out altogether.

* * *

><p>When I opened my eyes again everyone was leaving. Not bothering to open my phone to that irritating bright light, I glanced at the clock on the wall, which read with bland numbers that it was 12 O'clock. It was lunch time.<p>

"Hey Alfred?" That same soft voice from earlier rang in my ears, cause me to wince noticeably.

"Are you okay Al?" He tried again as he took a seat next to me, the worry evident in his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine Mattie! I'm just a little hungry is all~." I lied easily. The last thing I want to do is eat a burger or eat at all for that matter. My queasy stomach made sure of that.

"Oh okay." He said unconvinced. I would have come up with something else but my head is in too much pain to try again. "I was just coming to ask you if you want to join me, England, and France for lunch."

Hesitating for a split second I let my eyes drift to a spot on the wall so I wouldn't have to look at Matthew directly. If I didn't feel so good, I'm sure guilt would have made me feel worse. "Sorry Matt, I can't. I have to meet up with someone." Being deceitful shouldn't be this easy. Lying to your own brother, your twin, should hurt more than any headache could.

"Oh, with who? Maybe they would like to eat with us?"

I quickly look around the room of the few people that didn't leave yet and picked one, not really caring who. "Russia, he wanted to talk to me about something urgent."

Matthew's face relaxed a little but there were still doubt traced along his features. And this called for desperate measures. I quickly get up which was a bad idea to even consider as I almost toppled over. Ignoring the growing sickness I walked over to Russia who was playfully scary the shit out of Latvia. I didn't look at him as I took his arm and practically dragged him out the room; I didn't need to look to know he had that curious smile of his. I took him down the hall and made a hard right turn before Matthew could follow, which ended us up in the bathroom.

Letting him go, I stumble over to the sink and leaned against it desperately trying not to fall over. All that fast movement has my head hammering painfully and my stomach doing summersaults. I could feel the need to vomit clawing at my throat violently making me gasp silently. But apparently not silent enough.

"America?" Russia spoke softer than usually and a lot less threatening. Even with those two facts my stomach stopped dead in its tracks and dropped heavily. I didn't mean for him to see me like this! A hero's always fine. A hero's supposed to be fucking cotton candy and rainbows, not clutching on the nearest surface for dear life of fear of fucking collapsing. That's not a hero.

"I'm fine!" I snapped with false cheer, clenching the marble surface enough to leave cracks. I relieve some of the pressure as to not destroy the only thing holding me up.

"What is wrong with you?" I didn't look at him but I heard him take a few steps toward me.

"I'm fucking fine!" I barked bitterly, losing my composer a lot faster than I intended. A hero doesn't need people to worry about him. What kind of hero is that? A worthless and insignificant spot on the already filthy world, that's what. A fucking laughable piece of shit that wallows in his own grime.

"America." He says sternly in a louder and commanding voice. I wince from the volume and slowly crane my neck to look at him.

"If you are fine then why are you trembling?" The Russian stepped a little closer.

Glancing down at my hands, I notice for the first time that I was indeed trembling. I immediately stopped only for it to come back seconds later. I looked into the mirror that hung in front of the sink. Lately, I've been avoiding mirrors. Why would you want to have eyes gaze back at you that used to be so vivid that are now so clouded with doubt? You wouldn't. And just the migraine alone caused me to stay in bed. And right now the chronic pounding is getting unbearable.

I didn't say a word when he spun me around. I didn't even hear him get so close thanks to the continuous migraine.

"What's wrong?" He asked again. His face had lost that smile probably for a while now. It was replaced by a thin-lined deep frown.

Unable to stand up straight, I cling to his arm for my new support. I try to control my shaking hand and use it to pull out a bottle of pills from my pocket. The rattling echoed inside the marble ways, making it increasingly hard to open the bottle. Before I could, Russia, the bastard, took them.

"G-Give them b-back Russia! I swear if you don't—"

"Pain killers?" Russia questioned with slight surprise as he study the container. Of course he would ask. Who wouldn't? Someone with such a 'happy' outlook on everything, someone so 'energetic' and so willing to 'help' anybody in need, would drown himself in a drug induced numbness to function half as good in society. And then later do the exact same thing just to have a few hours of restless sleep.

"J-Just. . . please. . . give m-me two." My mask has already crumbled so why even bother anymore? Stuttering from the pain isn't something new so I didn't think anything of the slightly concern look the Russian gave me before opening the bottle and handing me the pills. Swallowing as soon as they hit my palm I released my death grip on Russia's coat and threw myself against the wall. I slide down and brought my knees to my chest. Completely forgetting about the other nation in the room, I curl into myself, like I usually do when waiting for the blissfully numbness. I've had to get the dosage increased recently, which helped with the pain, but not the voice.

'_Taking more pills already, Alfred? Didn't you take them before you got to the meeting?_' It hummed accusingly. I curled in tighter, clutching my legs harder.

'Just leave me alone!'

'_Aw. What's wrong Alfred?_' It asks with mock affection. '_Are you tired? Are angry you? Are you done being the hero-'_

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shouted desperately. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to the door and swung it open. I clung to the wall for support as I raced out and toward the exit. I could laugh at myself at how pathetic I am. You can't run away from your own mind. Your own thoughts. They follow you like a plague. But I kept running anyway. I couldn't even ignore the cynical laugh that echoed in my sore head.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

I picked a pairing for this after all. It will be RussiaxAmerica, and I here's the complete genre thingy:

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama, Mystery, and Romance.


	3. Cautious Snow

Today was going rather strange.

First, America was being quiet. That was unnerving in itself. Then it went back to normal after his speech ended. England and France were at each other's throats while everyone else returned their attention to the front, which was normal too. America was asleep faster than usually but that wasn't out of the ordinary by much. That anxious feeling was still there though.

Later, when lunch time arrived, I started to discuss with Latvia all the things he could eat that will allow him not to shake. Then he started shaking again. Just when I was about to hold him in place, America dragged me out of the room. I couldn't help the smile that formed on my face at which point because it was just so amusing! What could the loud American have to discuss that is so important that he had to pull me out of the room? He glanced over his shoulder behind us and when I was about to look too he pulled us into the bathroom.

I was about to ask him was so important that he felt necessary to drag me to the bathroom when he almost fell trying to make it too the sink. I've know that America isn't the most graceful country but he wasn't that clumsy. Something was wrong, and I couldn't help but worry, which was strange. I frown at the thought. Recently, our countries' relationship has improved greatly but not enough for this degree of concern.

. . . I don't think. . .

I get pulled from my thoughts by a pained strangled gasp. Turning, I catch the imposing, excitable, and rash hero. . . trembling? Latvia is the only one I know of that could tremble, but this is different. Very different. Something's wrong.

"America?" I ask cautiously. Watching him closely, I don't think he realizes he's shaking.

"I'm fine!" He says too quickly. I don't even think he noticed his voice cracked.

Ignoring the blatant lie, I press on. "What is wrong with you?" I took a few steps closer to him, trying to glance at his face, but his bangs blocked my view.

"I'm fucking fine!" He snapped angrily. Angry at me or someone else, I don't know, but he's tone was bitter. So unlike the bodacious voice that he's known for. The one that could cause annoyance or joy in anyone that hears it.

That uneasiness certainly has gotten stronger too.

"America." I allowed my voice to get louder, even after he noticeably winced from the sound. But he did look at me; expression showed underlines of pain that I'm sure he didn't notice. He was shaking a little bit harder now.

"If you are fine then why are you trembling?" I moved closer leaving about one foot between us. After the words were uttered, he visibly stiffened. All motion stilled for a split second before he went back to shaking. He faced the mirror and for one moment the only thing I could see. . . was self-loathing.

That should be the very last thing I should see on his face, let alone him actually believing that it is true.

Without thinking, I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face me. He immediately gripped my arm. "What's wrong?" I pressed on. What happened? What happened to you America?

He didn't answer me. Instead, he shakily went into his pocket and pulled out a bottle, and judging by the rattling, it was pills. Snatching them from his hands, I read the label.

"G-Give them b-back Russia! I swear if you don't—"

". . .Pain killers?" I breathed lowly, letting my eyes scan the blonde's face. He had it downcast but I could see the self-disdain back if not more potent. He gripped my arm tighter after long pause before he broke it.

"J-Just. . . please. . . give m-me two." He whimpered openly. The tone. . . it sounded so. . . defeated. It was rather sad actually. Such a happy and outgoing person could crumble without a fight? He looked so small as his hold on my sleeve started to waver. Not saying another word, I open the bottle and gave him two pills. As soon as they made contact with his hand, he swallowed them and detached himself from arm, leaving a coldness I didn't notice until now. He threw himself against the wall and slide to the floor, at this point I'm sure he forgot I was still in the room. He curled into himself.

I didn't know what to do. America. . . He has never– For all the time I have known him he has never looked so. . . beaten.

Unable to continue looking at him like this, I reach out to him. I hesitated when a soft whimper left his lips making him curl in tighter. Before I could touch him, he thrashed his back into the wall. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Stunned from the sudden outburst that echoed in the empty room, I felt him brush pass me as he scrambled for the exit. His eyes were filled with anxiety or maybe fear? He moved so unexpectedly I couldn't really tell. I couldn't brush off the feeling that quickly followed as he left. The feeling of dread that takes over when something bad is about to happen. Ignoring the little voice that was asking me why I even cared, I ran after him.

Making it to the hallway in a heartbeat, I caught a glimpse of blonde hair as it quickly left out of the exit. Heading after him, it dawned on me that it led to the cafeteria. Filled with gossiping nations. With only one exit, this is located right behind me. Perfect.

Keeping close to the door, I scan the room for that stressful American. Where did he—

"Hello Russia. Do you have a minute, aru?" Judging by that speech cork, it was China. Plastering on what I deem to be a friendly smile, while others called it a rapist smirk (America), I turn to him.

"Hello comrade China, and nyet. I have. . . pressing matters to attend to." I hesitated before looking around the panda lover. Still not seeing the American, I return my full attention just when he started to talk again.

"Oh, I see. Maybe next time then, aru." He said simply.

"Yes, next time." I confirmed easily, sliding by him and continuing my search.

Still not seeing the blond, I was about to check another room just to make sure he didn't pass me when a door I didn't notice before came into view. Giving only a glance, it was obvious it was a janitor's closet, and judging by how far away it was from the other nations in the room, quite easy to slip into unseen. Making my way over to the door in large strides, I couldn't help that little feeling of something wrong. I already knew something was terribly wrong but I'm getting the feeling it's a lot worse then what I originally thought. Hesitating with my hand on the knob of the door, I exhaled slowly, not accustomed to such intense and rather bothering emotions, and opened the door.

* * *

><p>AN:

Ummm. . . G-Guys. . . This wasn't my first time writing Russia period, but this is my first time writing him in first-person AND trying to keep him in character for the most part. So could you give some feedback about how I could improve my Inner Russia, and or tips to write better? Also, I'm in dire need of a beta, so if you know anyway who wouldn't mind or you yourself would like to beta this story, please!

_**Let. Me. Know.**_

P.S: And, why Yes! It is a cliffhanger!


	4. Invalid Arguments

'_Alfred. You don't have to do this. You don't have to put up with them, you know that. I know you're sick of this. Sick of lying to them and yourself each and every day.' _The voice said in a soothing tone much like a parent would use to calm a child.

"_I'm not lying!"_

'_Oh! Are you not? Then you really don't know how to read the atmosphere even though you deliberately ruin it when it's too tense, serious, or just plain negative. Or perhaps you're more sadistic then I thought.' _The voice took on an air of wryness.

"_I am not sadistic! I'm the Hero! Heroes don't lie to people. Especially if their special." _Alfred argued wholeheartedly.

'_Alfred. What makes a hero?' _ The voiced asked innocently, though he knew it was faked.

"_Courage, knowledge, experience, freedom, and power." _Alfred droned almost robotically like he has stated this over and over before.

'_Ah! Right there. You are a coward.' _The voice stated without hesitation, but didn't wait for the other to retort. _"You hide behind a mask, a façade, a disguise, or what have you. You make foolish decisions but you're far from foolish. You do have knowledge, quite a bit actually, but you're an idiot for what you do with it, which is absolutely nothing.' _Alfred easily heard the bitterness and ruefulness that radiated off the last part of that sentence. Like how a parent would address something that they didn't like what their child did.

No matter how much he wanted to argue Alfred knew the voice was right. It's always right.

'_Experience? You are not even three hundred years old and you talk about experience?' _The voice let out a sigh, which sounded oddly disappointed. _'You're still a child compared to other nations, Alfred. Barely out your diapers.'_

"_I am _not_ a child!"_

'_THEN STOP FUCKING ACTING LIKE ONE!' _The voice exploded angrily, making Alfred flinch didn't know how he was seen but the voice continued in a calm but strained voice.

'_Alfred, you are young, far too young to be this powerful. A world power. And that's where you lost your freedom. You are tied down by the feign ignorance you so desperately wish was real, the more you act like you don't have a care in the world, the tighter the hold is.' _The voice ended woefully.

Alfred had nothing to say. He never did when the voice got like this. And he hated it. Why did it always make him feel so guilty? He has nothing wrong to feel remorseful over. He hasn't done a fucking thing! And yet. . .

Why does his chest hurt so much?

'_But it's not too late.'_ The voice called out again, in its original smooth tone. _'There is still time Alfred. It's not too late to loosen and destroy the ignorance.'_

Before he could he ask how, he bit his tongue as hard as he possibly could without it falling off.

He couldn't allow this to happen. Not now, not ever. There's a reason he's acting like a fool. There's a reason for his cowardliness. There's a reason for his heroism. He wouldn't allow the voice to take over. Not again!

Out of nowhere, Alfred felt something shake his shoulder. When it tried to move him, he lashed out. He kicked, screamed, punched, clawed, bucked, growled, and jerked, anything to get the weight off of him. He felt hands grab his wrists and put them above his head, he ignored the tears that threaten to form when he knew they were from anger rather than pain. He didn't stop trying when he felt the same weight straddle him making his kicks and bucks greatly ineffective.

He started to hear something. It sounded like someone was trying to talk to him but there was too much static. He paused when the noise started to become clearer.

"S- … A…-ica"

"Am-… op!"

"_What?" _

There was silence before something touched his cheek, which felt like a hand. He flinched away from it. He couldn't see anything, just the same dark emptiness the voice loves to use to mess with him. It always makes him drop his guard.

"Ameri-….S-top!"

The static has dropped considerably now. He could just make out the voice . . . or voices now.

"Stop! America, calm down!" A very familiar voice called out. He sounded slightly panicked.

"Snap out of it!" At that slightly accented command he felt a sting of pain run over his cheek. He stayed stunned for a moment. He didn't even move when his surroundings started to come back. Random objects started to dimly return to their slightly blurry shape, the sound from before came back and clear as a whistle. But all he could hear was screaming. It sounded pained and hoarse. This time he could he make out the slightly blurred hand that struck him for the second time on the same cheek. When he finally came out of his forced trance he quickly identified that horrible scream as his own and abruptly stopped, filling the room with an unnerving silence. He felt himself huffing from the lack of air his lungs received and the struggle he put up before.

"America?" A hesitate voice whispered. But it sounded like a crack of thunder which made him cringe.

He tried to open his eyes but immediately realized they were wide open. He quickly blinked and strained his eyes to focus on the many faces that stared back at him.

". . .W-what—"Alfred immediately stopped when the hoarseness of his own voice reached his ears. He was numbly aware of a weight being removed from his lower body. He sat up stiffly and rubbed his eyes feeling as if they were on fire, and depending upon how long he went without blinking it was no surprise.

"Are you feeling alright lad?" Alfred instantly knew it was England's voice. Not trusting his voice, he nodded. A lie, yes, but only he knew that.

"He's lying."

'_Damn you Russia.'_ Alfred found himself glaring halfheartedly at, what he thought the fuzzy image was, Russia. He really needed to find Texas. And he felt his headache and nausea slowly come back from his hazy vision causing him shut his eyes and blindly search for the said eyewear. He almost jumped when he felt cool metal touch his face. Quickly adjusting to the clarity of the now unclouded world, Alfred finally took in all the concerned and slightly curious stares.

". . . U-Uh. . ." Was all he could say. What can you say when you were caught screaming your lungs out? Nothing much.

"We're not continuing the meeting." Someone said from the crowd of people that surrounded him.

"What! No don't—"Alfred stopped again when he heard the dry sound escaped his throat. Talking is not the best way to prove that you're okay.

"Don't be a bloody fool America! You were just screaming bloody murder!" England said in a concerned but slightly angry voice.

'_No! I can handle this!' _ Alfred thought confidently but didn't dare voice it. If he couldn't say it then he would just have to show them. He carefully put a hand on the floor and pushed himself up, forgetting about the nausea and the migraine that was quickly returning. He forced a half-smile when he was at full height.

"You are not fooling anyone." The tall Russian stated as he smiled his seemingly friendly but no doubt scary smile.

He sent him a glare through his smile, which probably looked a little menacing. He cleared his throat in attempt to try to talk and not sound like he smoked cigarettes all his life.

"I'm fine. We don't need to cancel the meeting today." He said in the most self-assured voice he could. He's voice didn't sound as rough either.

"Are you sure you're alright America?" Italy asked uncertainly as he peeked over Germany's shoulder.

"I'm perfectly fine! The Hero's always fine!" He exclaimed in his normal exuberant tone.

In response, a few of the nations that crowded him stole a couple more glances then shrugged and left. The rest were reluctant to leave him but did. It was only him and Russia.

Well, it _was_ only them until America tried to make a run for it but the Russian easily blocked the door way.

"Nyet, you and I are going to be discussing something comrade." He stated calmly and in a tone that held no room for arguments. But like that ever stopped the blonde from trying.

"We have _NOTHING _to discuss Russia." Alfred said in an equally calm and no-nonsense tone.

"I am not easily distracted by a fake and rather forced smile America." He responded with a hint of a smile, or sadist smirk. It was getting kind of hard to tell the difference now a days.

"Tsk, why do you even care?" America snapped bitterly. This is what he gets for letting his guard down in a moment of weakness.

"Oh I don't care. I am only curious as to what could cause you act as if something was trying to kill you." In a way, Russia wasn't lying. He did find it strange that the blonde not only ran but started to scream and kick when he simply touched him.

"None of your business, Rusky. Now, if you would oh so kindly move out of my way." America said he as he easily pushed by the other.

Not phased what's so ever, Russia simply followed behind and closed the door. He wasn't letting the American off that easy.

* * *

><p>AN:

I'm so sorry for the lateness of this! ;A; I really am! It's just that other fanfics on here are just so awesome and exciting! -SHOT-

Review?


	5. Wishing for Death

I will not lie.

I'm at a complete loss as of right now. I have been thinking -and most likely over thinking- about this curious matter. Has it finally happened? Has he finally cracked under the pressure? Under the stress? Under the power?

That couldn't possibly be it. Now I know I'm over thinking this.

But maybe he has cracked –albeit not from stress but from something more personal? From whatever it was, it certainly has made him stand on his last legs it seems. Or maybe he has just developed night terrors that are so vivid that one thought about them sends him into a screaming and hysterical fit? Or maybe I'm just over thinking yet again. But what he screamed was certainly interesting.

Just thinking about it only raises more questions.

"_America?" I asked lowly as I made my way into the fairly small closet. The little place had a single fluorescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling, lighting the small area with dim yellowish glow. Walking further in, I could barely make out the shaking figure that seemed to be hunched over on the ground, just outside the dim lighting. But upon closer inspection, it was clear he was rocking back and forth. Moving around the short shelves that litter the tiny space I was able to get close enough to hear him mumble something. Something about being a coward, another thing about Japan, and something about 'Never again.' What could those things have in common? And why is the American acting so peculiar— well, more so then usual? Deciding this was enough pondering for now, I returned my full attention to the bundle of surprises that seems to be twitching a bit. Reaching, I shook his shoulder lightly, expecting to get swatted away but instead, I was blatantly ignored. Feeling my brow quirk up ever so slightly, I tried to move him into the light. As soon as I gripped his jacket covered shoulder again, he lashed out. Taking me off-guard, he managed to kick me in the stomach which sent me stumbling backwards, into several buckets. After getting up from the mildly embarrassing position, I stocked over to the still kicking, punching, and whimpering young nation that somehow managed to push himself into the corner of the dusty place. Feeling a fairly unusual strong emotion toward America that wasn't just amusement, I went over to his thrashing form and grabbed his wrist and put them over his head, which was easier said than done when he using that mysterious strength of his. _

_I almost regretted doing it when he started to scream. I almost let him go, but before I could, China came running in, followed by some other nations. I didn't take the time to look._

"_What's wrong?" I heard China asked, looking at the blonde that was still trying to kick me. I sat on his legs, making him buck weakly. Thinking back to that moment, if I could be completely honest, I found it slightly enduring from his little struggle._

"_I do not know. I just touched him and he started to go crazy, da?" I gave him a slightly strained smile but I doubt he noticed. _

"_What the bloody hell is going on!" I craned my neck to glance at the Brit that just entered this little episode. He took a seat next to me trying hold down the blonde down._

"_America stop struggling damnit!" _

"_Calm Down aru!" _

_The screaming was starting to get horse but showed no signs of stopping. Who knew he could suck in so much air but then again, he did talk a lot. But what really took me by surprise was this bubbling feeling I was getting. I believe it was similar to panic, alarm, or maybe terror? But what I do know for certain was that I was feeling concern. For whom-? Most likely for the struggling American under me. I know I'm not terrified of the blonde, but maybe I slightly afraid for him. I don't know why though._

_Shouldn't Britain be the only one to feel this level of concern or maybe that invisible brother of his that no one else can see? Surely, those two, even France should feel this way. Not me. Though, I'm not finding myself worrying about it. _

"_America calm down!" England yelled as he tried to be louder than the shrieking American. He raised his hand and swiftly slapped the other. For an instant, I felt bothered by that. The room was thrown into an eerie silence, which only lasted for the briefest of moments. He started yelling again, but his struggles had died down enormously, to the point in which I could hold him in place with just a loose grip. _

_The Brit landed another quick slap across the other's face, and that bothered feeling came back twice as potent. The screaming stopped again, and so did the weak struggling. _

_The only sound that was heard was the ragged breathe for the probably tired blonde. _

"_America?" England asked lowly but didn't continue when he saw the other flinch. _

_After a moment in which everyone was quiet, America finally tried to say something. 'Tried' being the prefect word to describe how the he sounded. _

"_. . .W-what—" He crocked weakly but stopped, he could probably hear the roughness in his own voice. Trusting that he wouldn't start screaming again, I lifted myself off of him and settled with standing next to him instead. When I did, he sat up and rubbed his eyes lightly. _

"_Are you feeling alright lad?" England spoke again, making the effort to talk softly. _

_He nodded. That was a lie. And so, I called him out on it._

"_He's lying."_

_He threw a weak glare at me, or I assume at me since he was currently facing a mop. I had to force myself not to chuckle, but I didn't hide the smile that formed. He finally looked down and started to search for his glasses, or I assume once again. China was the one that found the glasses. He quickly put them on the blonde's nose and sat back as the other adjusted to the clearer world._

_He jumped back a little as he noticed the other countries crowded him. _

"_We're not continuing the meeting." Germany said in a slightly commanding voice, which isn't different from how he normally talks. _

"_What! No don't—" He stopped again._

"_Don't be a bloody fool America! You were just screaming bloody murder!" _

_At that said America looked like he really wanted to say something but decided against. Instead he pushed himself off the floor and half-heartedly dust away imaginary dirt that clung to his beloved jacket. He broke into a rather forced smile that crumbled halfway through forming. It was a sad sight really._

"_You are not fooling anyone." _

_He glared at me through the corner of his eye. It seemed like he was trying to be intimidating, but for some reason, I thought it was quite enduring. Cute even, but I wouldn't say that out loud. _

_He shifted his gaze back to the other nations and cleared his throat before attempting to speak again._

_"I'm fine. We don't need to cancel the meeting today." He said confidently. _

"_Are you sure you're alright America?" Italy squeaked loudly from behind the German's shoulder. _

"_I'm perfectly fine! The Hero's always fine!" America exclaimed proudly. Judging by the number of people that soon left the room; the rest that remained heard the slight crack in his voice. But they left too after a slight moment of hesitation. _

_America stood there, locking his gaze with mine until he broke and tried to leave as well._

_Which is when I decided to block his only exit. _

"_Nyet, you and I are going to be discussing something comrade." I told him with a straight face._

"_We have NOTHING to discuss Russia." He snapped back in a mocking tone. _

"_I am not easily distracted by a fake and rather forced smile America." I stated matter-of-factly with a hit of a smile. _

"_Tsk, why do you even care?" He barked resentfully. But he did have a point. Why should I care? _

"_Oh I don't care. I am only curious as to what could cause you act as if something was trying to kill you." I didn't exactly lie. I am curious._

"_None of your business, Rusky. Now, if you would oh so kind and move out of my way." He said dryly as he pushed pass me and out the door._

And that brings us here.

I'm sitting in my chair in the second part of the meeting. After what happened, England and his brother (his name escapes me yet again) bombarded him and took him away, but seeing the blonde in front of me toss the idea of them kidnapping him out the window. He had his cheek in his hand and the other was drumming impatiently onto the wooden table. Glancing around, I wasn't the only one looking at him either. England was the one presenting right now but it didn't stop him from glancing on America's side of the room ever so often. But that didn't distract me from the rest of the nations. I could hear a few of the rumors already spreading.

"—What if he went crazy! What'll we do?"

"Please, if he did go crazy, why isn't he trying to kill us or something?"

"What if he's the good kind of crazy?"

"I heard his country was making a drug that could cause the person to go insane."

"That sounds really stupid and unlikely."

"Then what do you think is happening to him then!"

"Maybe he's just stressed?"

I have to admit that I was expecting a lot more outrageous ideas; then again, it's not so abnormal for a country to have a little screaming fit. But they usually do that at their own home, and are a lot older than America, and aren't so nonchalant about it afterward.

I felt my brow cress slightly as I thought over this matter further. Yet that question comes back again. Why do I care? Why should I care when America obviously has other people who are more appropriately inclined to be affectionate and tolerable of him? And why don't I mind the sudden emotions? I let a sigh pass my lips as I mimic the American's posture. Maybe I'll talk to China after the meeting, if I can get around Japan that is.

* * *

><p>For the first time in my life, I wish I could die. I really do. I really, really, <em>really <em>wish I could.

My head is pounding so hard right now. I almost miss that stupid voice. It always makes me feel numb to this terrible throbbing and nausea. But I'm fairly sure it's causing this mess too. It and probably stress. I wish I could just lay my head down like before. The sweet blissful ignorant oblivion I call sleep. But I can't. I fucking can't go to fucking sleep, because I had to be a good brother and not worry Canada further. Fucking fuck—

I'm tired. So fucking tired right now. I wish I could die. Then I could sleep forever and not worry anyone. After my funeral of course. I know Matthew would be sad but who else would? As I glanced around the room I notice a lot of countries quickly advert their attention to the front. Heh, I wouldn't blame them for staring. Who wouldn't when someone starts screaming at nothing? They probably think I'm crazy, but on the flip side, they won't mess with me anytime soon. Now getting back on track of my imaginary funeral.

I wonder if Spain would care. I mean he's friends with France so I guess he'll feel more sympathy for him than me. Moving on, I wonder if North Italy would care. I know South Italy barely gives damn about anything so that's a straight no.

I think Japan would care. I assume he would, he probably wouldn't care then again, I never even seen him laugh but I have seen him smile a couple of times. But dude's got only three basic types of facial expressions: neutral, annoyed, and uncomfortable.

Letting my eyes roam the rest of the room, I stopped when they landed on Russia. That bastard. I don't know why but I'm slightly irritated at him. Maybe because he saw me break down a little or because he was the one who found me first? I shove my hands into my bomber jacket pockets. More irritation hit me almost as hard as my migraine.

He still has my pills.

Fuuuuuck! I can't even get a refill without that freaking bottle! I may be a nation but that doesn't mean I won't follow my own laws. Now I have to talk to him later too. Double fuck.

I felt my stare turn into a glare when he looked up and immediately locked eyes with me. We stayed like that for what felt like hours but most likely a few minutes until he smiled. He fucking smiled. What kind of crazy bastard smiles when they get dirty looks from someone?

'_Russia apparently._' My brain supplied lamely.

And like a brick to the face, my migraine made its comeback at full forced.

". . .kill me." I whispered softly as I closed my eyes and rubbed my sore head.


	6. Unwanted Conformation

Sorry for the shortness but I need this up and separate from the next is done. So enjoy!

^w^

* * *

><p>The last few hours ticked away rather quickly in Alfred's opinion as he gathered all his documents and doodles he was bored enough to draw and put them neatly in his suit case. Turning away from the leather case, he scanned the room for the tall Russian, inwardly hoping the man left already. But sadly, luck wasn't on his side when he spotted the Russian talking to China who looked like he was trying very hard to get away. He needed to get his pills back soon and hoped that Russia was willing to give them back with little to no back sass because he wasn't feeling up to a fight right now. So he plastered on a smile and walked up to unnerving pale giant.<p>

"Hey Russia~!" He laughed with cheerfulness as he approached the two nations. Russia turned around with that curious look in his eyes that never seem to leave. China gave him a quick glance then silently thanked him and swiftly walked away. "I need to talk to you for a sec." He said smiling as he began walking to a more isolated part of the room, which wasn't hard considering on how fast most of the countries ran out.

Russia just nodded as he followed the blonde to the further corner of the room. He silently wondered if America could feel the others' eyes on him, others' being England, France, and Canada of course. He came to the conclusion that he probably could since his smile was still up. _'Such a devoted actor.' _ He hummed in his head idly as he fiddled with his scarf out of habit. Focusing more on his keepsake, he almost ran into the blonde when he stopped abruptly and faced the Russian.

He didn't say anything as he let his smile drop in favor of a blank expression. Russia didn't comment on it. Seconds ticked down slowly as America just stared the Russian in the eye unwavering and searching. Searching for what, Russia didn't know.

"Give them back, Russia." He finally broke the silence in a demanding tone and a slight frown.

"Give what comrade?" He asked in fake innocence. He felt his mouth quirk up in a smile when he saw the other's lips twitch into a deeper frown. Something told him he shouldn't but he was quickly growing used to if not 'fond' of the blonde's reactions. '_They are simply fascinating_!' Russia thought curiously as he waited for the other's famous not well thought out remark.

"My pills Russia. Give them back." He said evenly. It didn't take a genius to hear how strained his voice was. He voice was lower too. He must not want the others to hear. '_They must not know . . . Interesting._'

Complying with the other's demand, and smile firmly in place, Russia pulled out the bottle that held the loose medicine. America quickly tried to snatch the small bottle but wasn't aware of the death like grip it was in. Russia didn't make an attempt to move away, in fact, he moved the younger nation closer and bent slightly.

"I'm looking forward to discussing this matter later, dear Amerika" He whispered softly. He walked pass the blonde, humming a merry little tune.

Sighing, America carefully put the bottle into his pocket, mindful of the rattling that would occur if he didn't and plastered another grin on his lips while he walked back to the others.


	7. Stupid Clock

Alfred laid in bed, wrapped in his sheets somewhat hazardously, but he didn't care. He fixated his eyes on the clock, which read in bright blue numbers 2'Oclock. He hadn't really noticed the time that went by ever so slowly. No. He didn't really care what time it was. He just needed to stare at something, anything that moved in some form, it was just that the clock was closest to him. He never really liked that digital clock, not when he found the soft 'tick tock' of a grandfather clock so much more calming then the robotically beeping whenever an hour passed. Lately, he's been having trouble getting out of bed, so his boss recommended the annoyingly vulgar contraption, now he can't even hope to move out of bed without the irritating shrill sound it makes whenever he needs to get up and start the day. Thankfully, his boss has noticed the steady change in him and made sure all his meetings were later in the day instead of at the crack of dawn. But the clock isn't the reason why he's still up. Just like it wasn't the clock that made him stay up the night before.

Yes, it was partial the pain, but not all of it.

" . . .Russia will be here in five hours. . ." He mumbled lowly, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. He let out an exhausted sigh as he shifted his unfocused gaze to the ceiling. He hadn't forgotten about the meeting that was planned from earlier this year with the Russian. In fact, he had been looking forward to it. Not anymore of course. Now he just wants the next couple of weeks to fly by as fast they possibly can. The least he had to interact with the pale blonde, the better. . . But a month alone with him in his own house? This will be near impossible. Then again, the work they have to do should be enough to keep Russia and him busy.

He rolled onto his stomach with a lazy flop. He then made his way out of the tangled mess of sheets and slowly crawled out of the warm sanctity of his bed. Not flinching when the coolness of the floor sank into the soles of his feet, he calmly walked into his bathroom and closed the door. He didn't bother to turn on the light since he was already used to the darkness. He turned on the shower and a steady stream of water shot from the shower head, slowly filling the room with steam. Sluggishly stripping off his sleep-wear, Alfred got in the shower, and let the water run over him. Relaxing his tired and tense muscles, he found himself in a small dilemma.

How should he act?

Should he act like nothing ever happened and greet the man with a welcomed smile? Should he greet the man with a glare strong enough to melt ice? Or should he just let go?

Alfred paused. He didn't think of that being an option. Never had that even been close to a coherent thought. "I could stop caring." He breathed out, his breath disturbing the white steam. Stop caring about keeping up appearances, about not worrying anyone.

He could stop caring about being the 'hero'.

'_I second that notion.'_

Alfred banged his forehead against the white tile wall, leaving a nice whole in his wake. He ignored the pain and the coppery smell that instantly made it way to his nose.

'_That will leave a nasty mark you know.'_

"_Why can't you leave me alone?"_

'_Because, I'm here to help you and I can't help you if I do leave.'_

"_Maybe I don't need your fucking help. Have you ever thought about that?"_

'_If that was true, I wouldn't be here in the first place. Now about "letting go"—'_

"_Shut up! Just shut up! I don't care what you have to say!"_

'_. . .'_

'_That was rather rude.'_

Alfred turned off the water sharply. He let out a low sigh and got out the shower, grabbing a nearby towel on his way out of the bathroom. He stepped over to his nightstand that that hated clock was sitting on.

He reached out, hand passing the pill bottle that sat next to the irritating clock, and opened the draw underneath. Digging inside for a few minutes, his hand quickly coiled around a small container.

'_You're going to use them. Such a daring feet don't you think Alfred?'_

"_Go to Hell."_

'_Such an impolite boy.'_

Quickly popping the lid off the container, he quickly grabbed whatever that was inside and throw it in his mouth and swallowed.

'_That won't last forever you know.'_

"_It will last long enough. Now, leave me alone!"_

Alfred didn't hear another reply. He felt numb, not a good kind of numb but the bad kind either. He was in the middle but even so, he felt a small triumph smile grace his tired features. Glancing at the cylinder shaped bottle that was still in his hand, he only had four of them left. The small smile turned into a serious frown. "Hopefully this will be enough."

* * *

><p>Hours later, to be more exact, five hours from a less than good morning, Alfred received a phone call from the White House, letting him know that the Russian Confederation had arrived. They will be sending a car over to pick him up.<p>

'_Oh goodie._' Alfred thought sourly as he began putting on his shoes. He didn't have to carry anything with him since; he was coming right back with the Russian in tow. In the last couple hours he had already prepared a room for the snowy nation and hid anything that could have given him any ideas of screwing up his home. Upon hearing the car horn outside, Alfred reluctantly left his pleasant living room and headed for the front door.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for all the fillers guys! ;A; I really am! The next part will definitely have some America and Russia interaction!


	8. Food part 1

When he entered the vehicle, America quickly noticed a bag with the signature golden arches proudly printed on it. He closed the car door with a light slam and settled in his seat. Grabbing the bag, he opened it and as soon as the smell wafted into his nose he quickly threw the bag down on the car floor. He laid his hand on his stomach and looked mournfully at the discarded bag. "Not today, not today." He whispered lowly as he wiped a tear from his eye. Giving the bag one last final look, he turned his attention to the window with a disappointed sigh.

He watched his people walking, talking, waiting, playing, laughing, heck even some were skipping and singing at this early hour. Feeling a smile roll its way up his face he sat back into his seat. This was nice. Not doing anything and letting the happiness of his people wash over him. He can even tell his driver, Jeff, was in a good mood. Days like these are so far and few that he can't help but to drown himself in it, just to make this feeling last longer. And just to think, if he allowed that monster to roam free, he would never have this peace. The one thing that can make him smile genuinely at his people. Looking out the window again, his smile dropped almost instantly.

They were now riding through the White House's large gates, and now headed for the equally large doors of the underground parking lot. Seeing as it only took a few minutes for this to transpire, America found himself right in front of the doors to the Oval Office. A mere foot from his boss and Russia no less. And, for a fleeting moment, America thought he could turn right around and escape but that idea was quickly taken from him.

"Ah, Comrade! We've been waiting for you! How rude to keep a guest waiting!" Russia said cheerfully as he opened the door.

It took all he's worth to not glare back; instead, he plastered on a smile and grinned at the tall Russian. "It's good to see you too, Russki!" He laughed as he pushed the door open wider and walked in.

He quickly greeted his boss and went over the final steps and procedures that were made to ensure their guest's safety and approval. At this point, America wouldn't have cared if the driver drove them off a fucking cliff. At least it would've ended quickly. But maybe death wasn't the answer? Maybe a nice warm bed he could lose himself in for hours would be better? At least the outcome wouldn't result in some kind of war. Inwardly shrugging, America simply went through the motions, which was a lot easier to do then paying attention, and was already walking toward the doors. Russia had left the room for something or other; he couldn't bring himself to care much. They were in the WHITE HOUSE, he was sure the Russian wouldn't get in any trouble, considering it was such well-guarded place.

Before the blonde's hand brushed the door knob, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around accordingly, and looked at his boss's softened and wrinkled face.

"Take it easy will you? You have a whole month to finish this so rest up." He said sternly, looking his country in the eye.

America gave a small smile nodded his head. "Sure thing boss."

His boss gave one final and light squeeze on his shoulder before letting him go and returning to his own desk which had paper work that still needed to be completed. America opened the door and walked out, and just when he did, he wasn't surprised to see a certain Russian smiling from across the hallway. He stared at him for a few seconds, studying him for no special reason, and released a sigh.

"Come on. We have work to do." He said finally and began walking down the hall, Russia followed leisurely behind him. They moved silently except for the dull clacking of their shoes and soon made it back to the vehicle. Once inside, Russia decided to speak up.

"How have you been?" He asked causally, like it was natural to ask him such a simple question. Like it was necessary to ask how he was doing when he knew how goddamn well he was doing! How dare this frozen heart bastard tease him like this! Even with that thought in mind, he threw a smile at the monster in front of him and replied.

"I've been pretty awesome." He said easily, missing the slight arch of the other's bro. "What's up with you?"

"I have been doing fine as well." Russia said with another almost strained smile. He received a nod and a low hum. Sensing that that was all the talking they were going to do right now, Russia turned his attention to the car window that showed the sun that was finally showing it's golden hue, instead of the red and orange that painted the sky. He sat back in his seat with a soft expression as he watched the sky settle into its normal blue tint that almost always promises a good day, which was somewhat true for his case. Whenever there wasn't a terrible blizzard that General Winter made and the sky was clear of any clouds was on rare occasions; he never felt more alive than the hours that it lasted.

He would have continued with these delightful thoughts if it wasn't for the smell of one of those disgusting bags that were always filled with what the American thought food was. Glancing down, he immediately spotted the discarded bag on the car floor. Looking at it more closely, Russia could tell there was still food in it, which was very unusual, especially if America wasn't even sitting a foot away from it.

The frost ridden nation raised his gaze to the blonde in question. He was looking out at the window like he was, but he wasn't looking at the sky. The corner of his lip was upturned in such a way; he would have thought he was in pain rather than being in peace. He just studied the American, watching the inner turmoil that was dancing behind those reflective blue eyes. Then suddenly, his smile, if it can even be called that, dropped and his face was completely guarded. He faced the Russian with a blank expression.

"We're here," Was all he said before the car stopped and he opened the door and slid out. Silently, Russia did the same and followed behind him, tugging his carry-on inside the house.

"Now," America started as he led them into the kitchen, "You are free to use the kitchen as much as you want, just make sure to clean up after yourself."

Russia nodded uninterestedly.

"There's not much in the fridge because I'm gonna let you fill it with whatever ya want later today." The blonde said plainly as he looked out the kitchen window distractedly.

Somewhat surprised by the seemingly selfless gesture, Russia walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. He closed it again and few seconds later he opened it again.

"Amerika?"

He jumped as if he hadn't notice the Russian in his kitchen. "H-Huh? Yeah? What is it?"

"There's only a full gallon of milk and a few potatoes in here." He said as he stared into the white icebox questionably. Almost like, if he stared hard enough food would magically appear. All the times he has been over this American's house, the refrigerator has always been packed. In fact, he doesn't even remember the back of it, and now it looks like a starving man was living here. With that thought, he turned to face the other and since he traded his old leather bomber jacket for a skinner coat, indeed he looked a bit . . . thin.

"Like I said, I was going to take you shopping for groceries. " He said simply with an indifferent shrug.

Russia picked up the gallon and glanced at it with a grimace, "This milk has been expired for a month now."

He received another apathetic shrug before the American turned around and started to walk away. "Come on, I'll show you to your room."

He glanced at the empty refrigerator once more before sighing and trudging behind the blonde up the stairs. When they reached the second floor, America walked over to one of closed doors and pointed to it. "This is my room." He then turned toward the other rooms that littered that floor.

"And your room is the one with the door opened. I'm going back to sleep so," He checked his watch, which read eight-fifteen, "You can wake me up at one o'clock." And with that, he swiftly opened his door and went into the dark room, closing it with a soft 'click'. Russia stood there a little bit longer, lingering by the door like an abandon puppy. The very idea of him being compared to such thing made him want to bark with laughter though.

Instead, he simply shrugged one shoulder and began walking down the rather large hallway. He didn't stop until he was a few doors down and spotted the door that was left ajar. There was a little post it note stuck to the polished wood that read with sloppy handwriting, "The rest of your stuff will be brought here at 10:00am so don't worry when people start coming in." He took the note and pushed the door fully open.

He truly wasn't thinking much of how the room would look. Sure, he would expect it to be a plain room that was slightly junky with a few discarded boxes or something along those lines. But he really wasn't expecting this. The room was expertly cleaned. He half wondered if Lithuania showed America how to clean properly, but pushed the thought back as he sat the only bag he carried to the house on his rather neat and seemingly iron pressed bed. He took off his coat and laid it on a nearby chair and glanced out the wide window that took up almost the whole wall. The curtain that hung on the rod was pushed to the side, drowning the room in a warm glow.

"Hmm, it seems he can be considerate." He mused to himself as he wrapped his beloved scarf closer around his neck. He decided that he can explore his room later so in the meantime, he took it upon himself to roam the house freely. With that thought in mind, he took note of what floor he was on and where his room was before walking out and closing the door with a with a faint smile and a little hum.

* * *

><p>I can't believe I lasted this long. I thought as soon as I stepped a foot in my house I'll just collapse in a pitiful heap on the floor, but I didn't. Which, considering the circumstances that I am now in, is a good thing. I'm thankful that I was able to tell Russia where the food will be and his room, so he won't have to roam the fucking house looking for shit. I leaned on the door tiredly, welcoming the darkness that greeted me and slide to the floor. For a moment, I considered just staying there until Russia comes and gets me, but I shook my head and slowly stood up and lumbered over to my awaiting bed. The sheets were still messy and somewhat on the floor, but I didn't care. It looked warm and very much inviting. Seeing how I could care less about sleeping in my clothes, I fell face first onto the mattress, not caring that only my torso made it. It was good enough for me to blackout.<p>

* * *

><p>"This is rather strange; then again it is <em>America's <em>house. I've heard stories about it from one of England's random drunken rants and it seems he was exaggerating. Big _surprise_." Russia mused to himself as he sat across from one of America's peculiar friends sipping tea. He hadn't thought there was anything resembling such a drink aside from the ice tea that seemed to have used a whole pound of sugar and then some. But that's beside the point.

Going back a few minutes, Russia was lost. There's no other way to say it. Frankly, it surprised him how big the house actually was. He found himself in a dark hallway deep inside, but found little to nothing of interest that could ease his boredom. Turning around, he jumped slightly when two big eyes stood out from the darkness. After quickly regaining his composer he stared curiously as those large eyes began moving toward him. As soon as he could place those eyes with a face, a smile made its way onto his face. "So you are Tony, I presume?" Russia started with his customary smile that came with greeting someone new.

Tony just stared at him with his large red eyes before turning around and walking down the hallway. He turned back and looked at him once and started walking again. Taking the hint, Russia followed him with a smile. He was led back to the kitchen after a few twists and turns and was seated. Returning to the present, Russia was currently watching the little alien make two sandwiches with interest, especially when he saw there wasn't any food that for the little alien to use. So far, since he has come into connect with the alien, Tony hasn't said a word. He would have thought he would have heard some mild cursing, from what England has told him, from the extraterrestrial every few seconds. He didn't dwell on it for long for Tony slid a plate which held his sandwich.

"спасибо." Russia said before picking up the sandwich and taking a bite.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm really excited for the next chapter! I can't wait to write it! But I may be a little late with since I'm trying to get two one shots out of the way first. ;w;


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